Body Image
by LunacyIsSubjective
Summary: Or: Five Times Belle Saw Rumplestiltskin Naked By Accident, And The One Time She Planned It. Mostly romance, with a little bit of angst, humor and hurt/comfort to make it tastier. Set in the space between Rumple meeting Belle in FTL and the end of their time together there. Bit AU.
1. Chapter 1

**AN: So, this was a random oneshot on my blog. Then it sort of...expanded. Still going to be six chapters, but yeah, they get longer...warnings for adult themes. Though please don't expect graphic sex, because as fun as that is, it didn't really fit in here. **

**Also, this is my first OUAT fanfic. I love OUAT, and Rumbelle, so current members of the fandom - please be nice? And don't set Malificent on me! I realise this is a little AU-ish, but it seemed like a fun idea. And like I said, it grew. Kind of like the smell of old cheese...Theme tune to this is probably the Weight of Love by Snow Patrol. I normally have an idea overall, but this became a bit more multi faceted than I thought it would be. **

**DISCLAIMER: Once Upon A Time does not belong to me, nor, by necessity, do any of its characters or original storylines - they belong to ABC. However, all original ideas, characters and storylines do belong to me, so kindly don't steal. Thank you.**

**Hope you like it!**

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The first time, it was Regina's fault.

Rumplestiltskin would never know exactly why the Evil Queen had had the sudden urge to swap their clothes, but she did, and ran out of the door in his favorite leather jodpers and crocodile skin waistcoat, shouting about fair transactions. Leaving him in a black satin dress embroidered with jet and raven feathers. Which would have been fine, had he not decided to keep a princess in the Dark Castle with him.

Having remembered this one, annoying (but sort of pleasant) fact, Rumplestiltskin set about trying to get the damn thing off of him, and preserve some sort of dignity. This, was somewhat hindered by Regina's dominatrix complex, which meant the whole ridiculous affair had more buckles, knots and fastenings than you'd need to catch a dragon.

Reminding himself that he was The Dark One, in the Dark Castle, all powerful, devious and feared, Rumplestiltskin began to battle with the dress. An hour or two later, he was swearing loudly at whatever depraved creature had created this monstrosity, his fingers were actually blistered and he refused to use magic. Because he was NOT going to be defeated by a dress. It just wasn't going to happen.

One hour later, having merely managed to dismember one of the silly thing's velvet sleeves, Rumplestiltskin lost his temper. And set himself on fire. Which was about the point at which he started screaming. Which was what brought Belle to his chambers, just in time to see him standing in a pile of ash and withered feathers, patting down the last of the flames off his naked body.

"Rumplestiltskin, are you al-" A normal princess would have turned away. Possibly screamed. Been sent running. At least have shown a little fear. Belle just stared.

"What were you doing?" She was starting to blush now, dusky pink filling the round apples of her cheeks. But she still wasn't going anywhere, and she was still looking. Refusing to cover himself (it was his castle dammit), Rumplestiltskin raised his eyebrows, waving at her with a taloned hand.

"Dearie, though I realise I am a sight to behold, would you give me a little privacy? Pretty please?"

Belle went tomato red, nodded vigorously, and after one last look, and a soft, "oh, right, of course!" She spun and trotted back down the stairs. Rumplestiltskin glared at the pile of ash on his floor, and the new burns lacerating his body.

It was all Regina's fault.


	2. Chapter 2

The second time, it was Rumplestiltskin's fault.

He'd gotten used to his life as a bachelor, wandering round his castle however he pleased, occasionally breaking through the dust and clutter to do a chore or two; just to make the place habitable. And, it wasn't entirely unknown (though certainly rare) for him to do his own laundry.

Which was absolutely fine, a relief, even, to those who'd met him on a non laundry day, and had to broker a deal in spite of the horrific smell on top of his...charming demeanour.

Scooping up his favorite silk shirt, a handful of leggings, a few socks and a waistcoat, Rumple sauntered down his spiral staircase, whistling to himself and occupying his mind with the delicious problem of exactly how much he could extort from the King he knew would come to him later that day.

He'd just decided he'd ask for twelve coaches, forty horses and a chandelier when his broken from his revelry by a muffled shriek.

Because he'd walked in on Belle, his housekeeper, who was already doing the laundry. And although Belle could hardly be surprised to find a man naked in his bedroom after she'd burst in unannounced, finding him in the public rooms on the ground floor - in the laundry, daydreaming, with only a silk shirt and few socks to cover himself was...less expected.

Frowning, Rumplestiltskin looked around, wondering what could have frightened his little princess so much.

In the meantime, Belle kept staring. She couldn't help it. It wasn't just the body itself, surprisingly well-formed, if a little thin. It was the gold, the scaly crust of glitter that coated his face, it seemed to make its way over his entire body, creeping into crevasses and over little folds of muscle. She wondered if it hurt.

At some point in Belle's staring and Rumplestiltskin's confusion, the Terrible Evil Magical Beast remembered that he wasn't wearing any clothing. Suddenly, he shoved the handful of laundry at his princess, snapping that it better be clean by three o'clock, and disappeared with a sparkle of glittery buttocks.

Belle giggled for the rest of the morning.


	3. Chapter 3

The third time, it was the Ravaging Horde's fault.

It was the end of the day; the creeping blurred twilight time, when the day was getting lost and the night was eating up the sunlight. Small creatures were being eaten by bigger ones, tree branches were snapping ominously, and the wolves were padding out into their kingdom.

Belle was sweeping the hall, humming to herself. In spite of her first impressions, the Dark Castle had grown on her. She felt no fear here. After all, she was in the home of the most powerful man in the land. The only thing she had could be afraid of was Rumplestiltskin, and in spite of the best efforts of her rational mind, that wasn't how she felt towards him at all. Not any more.

So when she heard the thundering rumble of a horde of soldiers and horses, she was curious but not necessarily frightened. She set her mop against a wall, next to a pedestal holding a golden goblet, careful not to touch it. She moved to the window, peering out at the jagged, rapid mass of creatures and men roaring across the horizon, leaving a trail of flames in their wake. She wondered if someone would come and make a deal with Rumplestiltskin to save themselves.

When the mass turned, and began heading towards the Castle, Belle still saw no reason to be especially frightened; or even to tell Rumplestiltskin. He probably knew already. Besides, Belle was an intelligent woman. She guessed that he'd stop them before they got in, it was well within his abilities. A rabble as disorganized as they stood little chance against the Dark One.

She was at the other end of the hall, polishing Rumplestiltskin's porcelain, when they broke down the front wall of the mansion. Not the glass, not the door - the entire _wall. _In an earth shattering, skull rattling crash of cascading bricks and a splintering symphony of broken glass, the front of the mansion simply crumbled. Wide eyed and frightened (because they seemed like much more of a threat, standing amidst the ruins with swords and pikes and flaming torches) Belle spun and ran to the first place she could think of. Rumplestiltskin's room.

She knew they spotted her, from the lewd shouts and the thunder of footsteps that followed her. Belle could feel her heart beating in her chest, so hard and fast she could have sworn at any moment it was about to burst out of her body. And all she could think was that she needed to find Rumplestiltskin.

His room was empty. Stifling a sob of despair and slamming the door shut behind her, Belle stared at the rich velvet furnishings and listened to the savage, lustful shouts of the men in the hall. She couldn't go back out, and beyond Rumplestiltskin's room was only sky. Outside, the men began to pound against the door, from the sound of it with something heavy. The wood creaked. Trying to catch her breath, Belle grabbed a poker from the fireplace and dove under the bed, crawling beneath the headboard and tucking her legs up to her chin.

He knuckles were white around the black metal of the poker and she was trembling. Shutting her eyes, she whispered, "Rumplestiltskin, help me."

The door buckled with a creak and a crash. Belle watched, terrified, as their heavy boot clad feet thumped into the room. And then there was a whisper of smoke, and two familiar, gold encrusted heels appeared in front of the bed. Rumplestiltskin's familiar giggle echoed through the sudden silence.

"It's against the law to break into someone's house. Didn't anybody tell you?" His voice deepened, taking on a familiar, savage burr. "Especially my home." He snapped his fingers, and the sound was strangely loud; loud enough to echo through the room. As one, the men's boots turned on their heels. "Go on then. Back to Regina." Promptly, the horde marched right back out.

Frowning, not entirely understanding what had just happened, Belle didn't feel safe enough to release the poker in her hand. She did, however, understand enough to know that Rumplestiltskin was here.

As she watched, his feet moved, and he knelt, bare-legged next to the bed. Leaning down, he peered in at her. He was frowning, his lips pursed and his strange gold cat's eyes were pulled tight at the corners. Cautiously, he held out a slender hand to her, giving her a small, reassuring smile.

"Come on out dearie. They're gone now." After a second more, Belle took the proffered hand, taking a moment to register and remember how surprisingly soft it was; like the skin of a lizard. With Rumplestiltskin's help, she got out from underneath the bed. Almost immdeiately, Rumplestiltskin was peering at her face, his eyes glancing rapidly over her features, her neck, her arms and feet.

"Are you hurt dearie? Did they touch you?" And Belle couldn't help herself. He sounded so concerned, so sincerely worried about her welfare, her fear tumbled away, and all that was left was a rush of relief.

Throwing her arms around, she buried her face in his bare shoulder. It was soft, if a little rough, the lizard skin texture of his palm. His skin smelled like woodsmoke and metal and the waxy smell of wool. "I'm fine. Thank you. I'm fine."

After a moment's pause, Rumplestiltskin lifted his arms and clasped them around her burying his face in her hair. As close as they were, Belle felt, rather than heard a soft sigh leave his chest. For a moment, they stood like that, wrapped up in one another. Then Belle smiled, turning her head against his shoulder.

"Rumplestiltskin?"

"Yes dearie." His voice was soft and rough, as if he was afraid to break the silence. Belle stepped back, placing her hands on his shoulders and tilting her head to the side, smiling at the strange man standing before her.

"You should probably put some clothes on."

At that, the Devious Imp's eyes widened, and she could have sworn he began to blush, right before he disappeared in a twist of smoke. Belle grinned at the empty room, shaking her head and shutting her eyes to breathe in the smell of him. In another part of the Castle, Rumplestiltskin sat on the edge of his bathtub and did much the same, scowling at his reflection in the lukewarm water.


	4. Chapter 4

The fourth time, it was the curse's fault.

In Belle's opinion, the sound of the most powerful man in the land sobbing was one of the most heartbreaking sounds she'd ever heard.

She hadn't meant to hear it, and as she stood on the wide flagstones of what she'd thought was another empty tower, she found herself frozen, feeling as if she was listening to something private. Something forbidden. In front of her, a tall, dark wooden door was firmly shut. The lock was rusting. Cobwebs slipped across the cracks, and to her right dusty steps led upwards, while those she'd just cleaned marked her passage.

There was another soft, muffled sob, and Belle passed her hand over her face, running it through her hair and biting her lip. Half heartedly, she picked up her mop again, trying to get back to work. But all she could think of was that he was just past that door. That he was in pain. And, maybe, that he needed her.

It was this thought that finished her. Taking a deep breath, she straightened her spine and lifted her chin. Then she pushed open the door, finding to her relief that it was unlocked. Beyond lay a dark, dusty room. There were no windows as far she could tell her, unless they were obscured with drapes, like the rest had been when she first came.

Tall rectangles of metal towered above her head, supported by oak struts and facing away from her, making a circle. There was a pathway of footprints through the grime, heading past the rectangles, and Belle followed it.

He looked like a man from where she stood. The dip and curve of his spine evened out at the base of his neck, lower, the faint shadowy ridges of his bones lifted his strange skin. His slender shoulders were hunched, his long fingers wrapped around his wiry arms. Slivers of blood trickled over his skin, where his nails had dug in too deep. His face was buried in his knees, and his wiry, curly hair fell around his face, hiding it. He looked broken.

Around him, a circle of larger than life mirrors presented an unforgiving wall of reflections; presenting the curves and lines and planes of his body back at him in a thousand ways, half hidden by the shadows. Quietly, so softly Belle could barely hear it, he was whispering. "I don't want to be a monster Bae. I don't want to be a monster. I didn't want to be a monster. I didn't understand. I don't want to be a monster Bae..."

Occasionally, a sob would make its way out of his slender chest, into the dust and the shadows.

And Belle knew he was supposed to be a monster, and that she was a princess. And she knew he'd done terrible things, unforgivable things. And she knew that she should hate him; resent him for taking her as his slave. But in that moment, all her heart could show her was a man. A man who had helped her; who had been kind, and who was hurting.

So she stepped towards him, not trying to hide her presence. He looked up, and she crouched next to him with a swish of her skirts, skirts of the dress he'd bought for her. She glanced over the scratches over her his body, deep gouges from his nails, bleeding slowly. She saw the scars of similar marks, stretching over his arms, and neck, and down his chest.

He blinked owlishly at her, as if he didn't know who she was. Gently, unflinching, Belle pressed her hand against his cheek. It was wet with tears. Tenderly, she smiled at him, and then she leaned forwards and wrapped her arms around him, staring at the reflection of his scaled, hunched body.

"You're not a monster Rumplestiltskin."


	5. Chapter 5

The fifth time, it was Malificent's fault.

This was clear to the Dark Castle in general, thanks to the volume of the Dark One's curses as he staggered back into his hall, patting down flames and pretending that he wasn't bleeding from more wounds than he cared to count.

And he was naked, again. He needed to invest in fireproof clothing. Deciding that getting dressed was his first priority; he'd had about enough of being caught naked, he headed towards the stairs. He'd made it about halfway across his ludicrously large hall when he collapsed. Damn if that dragon didn't have one hell of a bite on her. And some bloody large claws. Next time he'd find a gallant prince to do the dirty work for him.

If he lived that long, which Rumplestiltskin was finding more and more difficult to believe, and which he could not find it in himself to regret. Death, for him, was the easy option. Kneeling on the floor, he groaned as a wave of pain washed through him, rushing up from the gash across his chest. And then the one on his thigh. And then his shoulder, and lower back. And then there were the burns.

Sweating profusely, Rumplestiltskin cursed the fact that with great power did not come invincibility of the flesh. Panting, he curled into a ball, trying through a mind muddled with pain to figure out which wound to deal with first. It was difficult, however, to command his magic when his body was demanding so much of his mind's attention.

Which was when Belle came in.

"Rumplestiltskin!" He scowled to himself, hating how concerned she sounded and curling away from her. It wasn't that he didn't appreciate her kindness, there was little left in the world that he respected more. But he couldn't help resenting himself, feeling as if somehow he'd manipulated her into caring for him.

Soft skin brushed against his hot, trembling flesh, and Rumplestiltskin couldn't help leaning closer on instinct, into Belle's cool, affectionate embrace. Gently, she tapped his cheek, her breath coming fast and uneven.

"Please, Rumplestiltskin, how can I help you? What happened to you?"

Trying to heave himself into a sitting position, and with Belle's help managing it, though not without fresh washes of blood and pain, Rumplestiltskin snarled. "Malificent."

"The dragon witch? Why would you…" Belle was cut off by another of Rumplestiltskin's groans, though he tried to stifle it through gritted teeth.

"Alright, I shouldn't be asking questions. Do you have any medical supplies? Some bandages maybe?" Nodding, sweat running down his face, Rumplestiltskin gestured to a door on the East wall of the room. Face settling into an expression of determination, Belle nodded and kissed his forehead. "I'll be right back."

Gently, she lowered him onto the floor, leaving Rumplestiltskin shaking and frowning. He made a mental note to talk to her about gestures of intimacy. Again.

Time whirled around him while he lay there, staring at his ceiling which was just too far away. Warm blood ran over his skin, and Rumplestiltskin suddenly realized that he didn't want to die. Because if he died, what would happen to her?

Seconds later, or maybe hours, he wasn't sure; Belle came back. Gently, she began to dress his wounds, applying salves, stitches and tying bandages. Still feverish, Rumplestiltskin frowned at her. "You're a princess….How do you…know how to do this?"

Bell shrugged, managing to give both a smile and a frown as she re-threaded the needle, her elbow keeping a wad of linen on his thigh. "Well, my Kingdom was at war. We all had to learn how to deal with the wounded…" She paused, the half-smile falling from her face. "And the dying. Even before…a castle can be a brutal place to live in. Not just a pretty one."

She paused, very gently beginning to stitch the wound on his thigh. Rumplestiltskin hissed in pain, and she winced, pausing. "I'm sorry. Would you like some mead, perhaps? To numb the pain."

Rumplestiltskin shook his head. He hated what alcohol did to him; bringing out all his anger, all his grief, and stealing control of his power. The pain was a confusion he could handle, drink…she could be hurt. And he couldn't have that.

Frowning, Bell continued, while Rumplestiltskin curled his hands into tight fists, feeling the bite of his nails on his palms. He wondered at what point he'd become brave; truly brave, not just drunk on power as he had been.

He jumped a little when Belle's hands brushed his inner thigh, sending a shot of hot lust up through his veins. She paused, and if he didn't know any better, he could have sworn she was blushing. "I…I'm sorry, I need to tie this bandage."

Glancing away, ashamed of his desire, Rumplestiltskin waved for her to go on, trying to distract himself. "How do you mean, that castles can be brutal?"

"Well, they're full of soldiers, for a start." She sounded a little breathless, her voice a little higher than it had been before. Before she'd begun, she'd place a piece of linen to cover his modesty, but her arms were getting awfully close…Rumplestiltskin clenched his fists tighter. This wasn't helping.

"And then, my father, the King. Gaston. They're both good men, but…" She paused, her voice suddenly low and soft. Her hands stopped too, though only for a second, before she resumed her work.

It was enough, however. Rumplestiltskin knew how to recognize old wounds, along with desperate souls and broken things. Frowning, he turned to look at her, eyes glanced over the frown creasing her brow, the faint creases at the corners of her mouth, turned down and tightly shut. This time, it was Belle's turn not to meet his eyes.

Instead, she knotted the bandage in place, frowning at his useless, twisted knee. He felt the pads of her fingers brush it, sliding over the scar tissue, the tooth marks.

"What did they do to you?" Rumplestiltskin didn't really have time to think about the words before they'd left his mouth. Once he'd said them, however, he knew he meant them. And he wasn't sure if he'd have had the courage to ask, had he truly thought about it.

Belle shrugged. "Nothing I didn't deserve."

Rumplestiltskin scowled, not liking where this was going, but now Belle was helping him to his feet, moving him so that he could lie on the makeshift bed of pillows and cushions she'd constructed on the floor. They'd decided he'd sleep here, at least for tonight, she could hardly carry him to his chambers. And it was unlikely Rumplestiltskin could afford the cost of magicking himself there or the room here, not in his present state.

Gently, Belle tucked the blankets around him, careful to leave them loose around his wounds. When she was done, she brushed his hair from his damp cheek, and kissed it. "It's nothing for you to worry about."

Some briefly forgotten instinct, to do with constructing walls and not showing affection, reared its ugly head, and Rumplestiltskin shifted uncomfortably, trying for a grin. It came out as more of a grimace. "I never said I was worried."

Belle smiled at him. "I know." Then she moved away, going to the bed she'd set up for herself, in case he needed her. "Sweet dreams Rumplestiltskin."


	6. When she planned it part 1

**AN: I know, I know, I said 6 chapters. Also, I can count, and I know this ends up as the three times she planned it...but I'm going to say the title in the summary still stands, in terms of the one successful, deliberate time. Gotta love those little clauses. Basically this chapter expanded, in a similar fashion to the rest of the story. So now it's in two parts! Here's the first, because I wanted to thank the lovely people who added this to their faves, alerts and left reviews. The second half will be through by tomorrow hopefully, and will be significantly...smuttier. (I regret nothing.) Hope you enjoy this one!**

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The first attempt had been dinner. In hindsight, Belle figured she should have known better. But at the time, the idea's simplicity was appealing; it was a tried and tested method, and perhaps the transparency could even help things along…For a man like Rumplestiltskin…she had a feeling that she'd need to guarantee that she was sincere. A candle lit dinner left little room for trickery.

As it turned out; it was a more complicated task than Belle could have imagined. The main problem was the dining table. Though they'd only been rulers of a mountain village, Belle's family and court had lived in a castle. She was accustomed to unnecessarily large furniture, and she'd heard every joke there was to make about compensating. Every Tuesday, however, when she got round to waxing the thing, she decided that Rumplestiltskin's dining table took the biscuit. It was excessive in the extreme, and she had a funny feeling that he liked it just because it emphasized how large his hall was, and drew attention away from his beloved spinning wheel, itself larger than life.

Either way, it was hardly the right vehicle for the sort of gentle, tender seduction she had planned. Even if they simply ate at one end, as he liked to when she served him his tea, that whole expanse of wood made her dizzy. She wanted this to be about the two of them; close and intimate. A twenty-foot oak dining table didn't fit the bill.

Finding a replacement took her two days. It was indeed, as Rumplestiltskin gleefully reminded enemies and allies alike, a 'rather large estate'. By the end of the second day, Belle had scrapes and bruises on every bend of her body: elbows, knees, toes, fingers. Even her nose had gotten a scrape at some point while she fought her way through the cluttered, cramped cellar. Down there, in the dark and the clutter and what she hoped wasn't rat droppings (but probably was), Belle found something. It was round, a little larger than a teatable, humble and a little battered, but prettily carved with vines. This much she established in the light of the lantern she'd brought down specially.

Pulling up her skirts, she hooked her arms around the smooth aged surface of the old wood. With an effort, she managed to drag it towards the bottom of the stairs, banging her head on the way and nearly knocking over her lantern. Wondering when exactly this had become so difficult, and reminding herself that real love shouldn't be easy, Belle put her hands on her hips and glared at the steep stone steps rising up into the light of the estate.

She got about halfway, with no small amount of huffing, sweating, and yet more grazes and scrapes against the rough, narrow walls of the stairwell. However, as Belle heaved herself and the table to the thirteenth step, her foot slipped. She had a moment to cursed clichés and heels, and then she was tumbling, head over heel over wood, right back down to the bottom. She collapsed in a heap, breathing heavily and hurting all over. One of the table legs had snapped, and a hefty splinter had found its way deep into her shoulder. Her ankle burned, and she had a feeling it was broken.

Blood filled her mouth, and Belle shut her eyes, wishing she could be ugly and graceful, and not somewhat pretty and the clumsiest person she knew. After a second more to get her breath back, she tried to sit up. She got about halfway before the pain from her shoulder, and something on the back of her head she hadn't noticed before, gave an angry pulse and sent her crashing back down with a wave of nausea. Darkness crept into the edges of her vision, and she stared at the flickering light of her lantern, dancing off the curves and grooves of wood and metal. The darkness enveloped her, and Belle knew no more.

When she woke up, it was to the worried expression of Rumplestiltskin. She was in her room, and when she shifted, she realized that her shoulder and ankle were healed.

"All that over a table dearie? I'd not say it's worth the life of a princess." Rumpletiltskin tried for a giggle, and Belle saw right through it. Instead she sat up properly, giving him a smile and a shrug.

"It was a very pretty table." One of his shoulders lifted in a strange little half shrug, and her lifted his hand, as if to press hers, or touch her face. Instead, he withdrew, mumbling something as he went.

She wasn't sure, but she could have sworn he said, "you're prettier." Her smile widening, Belle decided to call him out on it.

"Sorry, what was that?"

Rumplestiltskin paused, and though she couldn't see it, he smiled. Then he waved a clawed hand in a faux-regal gesture and left, throwing a command over his shoulder. "Don't do it again."

Still smiling, Belle leant back against her headboard, pulling up her legs and crossing them. She was still in the dress she had been in before, and it was filthy. Quietly, Belle shook her head at Rumplestiltskin and his odd little quirks; happy to trade the fate of a kingdom for a princess, but unwilling to touch her dress. Stretching her arms, she tumbled forwards onto the downy covers, lying on her front and resting her chin on her palms. So she couldn't get the table, which threw something of a spanner in the candle lit dinner plan. She'd have to think of something else.

Light filled Belle's room through diamond paneled windows. It was the brightest room in the castle, painted cream and eggshell blue, delicately furnished with a pretty mahogany bed, a chair, and a china basin. It had no mirror, like most places in the Dark Castle. Except…she thought of the room where she'd found Rumplestiltskin, some weeks ago now. He'd explained to her that it was enchanted, meant for only him, that the mirrors were cut off from the rest; though she hardly understood what that meant. Apparently, she'd broken the enchantment when she'd come to him, simply by being there. Belle couldn't help being a little glad of it. She never wanted to see him like that again.

Shaking her head, she stood, moving to the window and staring at Rumplestiltskin's enormous estate, the vast lawns and the woods, the lakes and ponds and ornamental streams; the orchards and the mountains. A small, squat building stuck out from the house, joined to it by a short corridor. It was where she did Rumplestiltskin's laundry, in a cleverly diverted stream, sheltered by the building and complete with drying racks. It was where she'd seen his body for the second time, and she'd not yet forgotten it. Belle grinned as an idea began to form in the back of her mind, blushing a little and stepping out of her dress.

It shouldn't be too hard to get a man naked when you had all his clothes…

As a matter of fact, it was surprisingly easy to steal Rumplestiltskin's clothing. For the Lord of All Darkness, and man renowned for his skill in matters of deceit, entrapment and general naughtiness, he was incredibly trusting. Once again, he had left Belle alone at the mansion, and though he had left wards preventing her from leaving the Estate, there was no such restriction within the enormous property (though as a rule, Belle stayed away from the mirror and potions rooms).

Arms full of silk shirts and leather, Belle wandered down the sunlit corridor to the laundry. Once there, she dumped the clothing on the wooden floorboards, (Rumplestiltskin had magicked them in for her, after she'd come back with the beginnings of frostbite on her toes from the cold stone). Hands on her hips, Belle wondered what exactly she should do with them, and how she'd get Rumplestiltskin's current outfit away from him.

She knew there was little point in her hiding the things, though it was tempting; she'd lost a simple hair pin once, and with one word and a snap of his fingers, Rumplestiltskin had caused the thing to fly to him. Staring at the expensive, smoke-infused clothes, Belle started to grin again, wondering if Rumplestiltskin was rubbing off her.

Hesitantly, barely believing that she was doing it, Belle reached out and took a faded gold shirt in her hands. Bringing it to her face, she shut her eyes and inhaled the smell of him, wood smoke and metal and wool. Gently she rubbed the material between her finger and thumb, and then she ripped it. Laughing a little at the sheer rebellion of it, and the expression on Rumplestiltskin's face when he got back, Belle ripped the shirt into shreds.

Part of her wanted to feel bad, but she knew he had enough money to replace them. And with the destruction came…release. All of her anger and frustration at being caught and trapped, both here and in the castle, and all of her fury at her own helplessness, in the ogre wars and with Rumplestiltskin's curse, and her heartache at how he insisted on staying away, poured out of her through her hands into the shredded fabrics. At some point, she started to cry, and her thoughts wandered further, to her childhood and Gaston, and brutal castles and dressing wounds.

Eventually, her anger faded, and Belle slumped onto the floor, staring in some disbelief at the rags around her. After a second's thought, she took a candle and a flint, and took the rags outside, setting them on a patch of soil that she'd planned to use as a vegetable patch. Setting fire to the pile, she watched as they burned to ashes. Then she started to giggle again, knowing that Rumplestiltskin would have little chance of escaping her clutches now. Which made her giggle again, imagining herself as some crazed harpy, and he as the maiden in distress. Heady on the smell of him, and the rush of having actually gone through with her plan, Belle laughed the whole way back to the castle.

It was only later, when she was wondering exactly how she was going to explain to Rumplestiltskin that all his clothes were ruined, that she began to feel trepidation. It wasn't fear, Belle continued to be unafraid of Rumplestiltskin; she simply trusted him too much. What she did not trust was his temper, and its unexpected savagery. She had experience with the hot blood of an angry man, and left to think about the idea, she had soon worked herself into a bundle of nerves.

So when Rumplestiltskin flashed back into the castle; naked, _again_, she laughed. It was instinctive and a little hysterical, and it completely ruined the moment, but, as she would say for years to come, the expression on his face had simply been too good. Seeing her, Rumplestiltskin, who seemed torn between throwing a tantrum and laughing himself, raised his eyebrows at her, stepping behind the table to cover himself.

"Fetch me some clothes, would you dearie?"

This only made Belle giggle more, and Rumplestiltskin's eyebrows rose still further as he wondered what exactly had happened to his princess. He made a mental note to check on his supplies of alcohol and hallucinogens.

Once she'd calmed a little; beginning to recognize the real discomfort on Rumplestiltskin's face, Belle sobered up. "I'm sorry, but…they're all destroyed."

"What?" Sudden anger came over Rumplestiltskin's strange face, and his pupils narrowed into slits; reminding Belle of the arrow slits in her castle's walls for shooting down invaders, murder holes. Trying to stay calm, she forced herself to stay exactly where she was.

Though she tried, she couldn't quite meet his eyes as she explained, hesitantly, "they…they're all ripped. In shreds. I mean…I could mend them….?"

Rumplestiltskin shook his head, magicking an outfit for himself with a twist of his hand and gesturing to a vase in his china cabinet. In a puff of smoke it vanished, and at Belle's questioning look he gave a delirious smile, the same expression he always wore on exercising his power. "The price of course. All magic comes with a price dearie." The smile fell from the folds of his skin, and his brow furrowed, webbing deep dark lines across his face. His voice was deep and rough as he continued, and Belle clutched the table she was perched on. "Now, as for the wastrel son of a hag who did this…"

Winking at Belle, he clapped his hands twice. Belle raised her eyebrows, looking around, and half expecting some monstrous torment to erupt from the ground and devour her. Rumplestiltskin giggled. "All done."

Curious as ever, Bell tilted her head to the side. "What did you do? Who took your clothes?" She blushed a little, hoping that he'd read it as a reaction to his nakedness, and not her own deceit.

Shrugging, Rumplestiltskin gave her a little twirl in his new outfit. He wore a white shirt and black leather waistcoat, buckled at the back, along with black linen laced trousers. Calf length buckled boots completed the outfit, and for Rumplestiltskin it was incredibly conservative. Belle smiled. "I like it. So…?"

"Always so many questions dearie." Rumplestiltskin giggled. "Did you ever hear the story about the Emperor's new clothes?"

Eyes widening, Belle stood up. "You mean the mad Emperor? The one who went naked through the town?"

"That's the one." Rumplestiltskin stepped towards her, holding his hands up to his smile like a child trying to hide a lie. "His special tailor and I had something of a disagreement. So the little beggar stole my clothes."

"Why didn't you just kill him and take them back?" Belle was frowning, and asked the question sincerely. Had someone served Gaston such an insult…she dreaded to think what he would have done, especially with powers like Rumplestiltskin's. Almost instantly, said Imp's face straightened, and he stepped back, away from her. Belle tried to ignore the responding ache in her chest.

"Contrary to popular opinion, I don't actually kill that many people. They're so much more use to myself and others when they're alive."

Still confused; it wasn't as if Rumplestiltskin's fearsome reputation didn't precede him, Belle continued. "But all the stories…"

Rumplestiltskin shrugged, the manic glee that had shone in his eyes was long gone. "Are stories, and as such, not necessarily true."He waggled his finger at her. "I'd have thought you'd know better than that."

Biting her lip, because he was right, and she should have, and because Belle hated to see him upset, she moved back to the topic of the Emperor's tailor. "So what did you do to him?"

"I turned him into a sheep." The answer was so unexpected, that for a moment all Belle could do was stare at her Master. Amused by her pure shock, Rumplestiltskin started to giggle again, and Belle laughed with him.

"W-why a sheep?"

Rumplestiltskin threw his hands into the hair, his loose sleeves rolling back down his arms. "He seemed to like making clothes. Making wool isn't so different." Belle laughed a little more, but not enough to miss the faint hint of pride that had come onto Rumplestiltskin's face; as if he was proud of having amused her.

An errant thought stole the laughter out of her, and Rumplestiltskin frowned at Belle's expression of horror. "But what if someone decides to eat him? That would be awful!"

"I wouldn't worry about it dearie. We're the only ones here, after all." And he gestured out of the window, where a pot-bellied black sheep was grazing next to one of the ponds. Belle laughed again, stepping closer to the window to get a better look. She felt, rather than saw, Rumplestiltskin step up behind her. Turning her face to the side, she smiled at him, staring up at his stubble-grazed chin, his chapped lips and his curly hair.

"You're ridiculous, you know that?"

A huff of breath blew onto the back of hair, tickling the skin and sending shivers down her spine as Rumplestiltskin gave something between a laugh and a sigh. "You're the only one who'll say it." He paused, and Belle turned to look at him. As she did, he stepped away, holding up a finger. "But I did have my suspicions." He winked at her, and turned away with a twist of his hands and a click of his heels.


	7. When she planned it part 2

As it turned out, the last attempt was the simplest, easiest, and most frightening course of action. A few days after the incident with Rumplestiltskin's clothes, Belle stood in her bedroom, looking at her reflection in the window (Rumplestiltskin refused to give her a mirror, saying they were dangerous.) Anxiously, she adjusted her hair for the fiftieth time, and tugged on the flimsy, laced nightgown she wore.

Belle flushed as she began to consider what she was about to do, and glanced at her trembling hand. Lifting her chin, she stared herself down in the window. "Do the brave thing and bravery will follow." She whispered it fervently, like a prayer, and crossing her fingers she glanced up at the stars, wishing that things would work out.

Then she left her room.

It was dark in the castle; all the candles were out, Rumplestiltskin had few to begin with, and shadows jumped and danced over the strange shapes of his odd collections. Perhaps, had she been another, Belle would have been frightened, but by now the Dark Castle felt like home. As she made her way down the halls, her heart pounded from an entirely different kind of fear: a fear of rejection, of betrayal…of brutality.

Breathing fast, Belle paused, trying to shake images of her past life from her mind. After a moment, the memories passed, and she glanced back the way she'd come, wondering if this was truly a good idea, whether she could go through with it. But then she thought of the ever-present ache in her chest, and the thousand smiles she knew on Rumplestiltskin's face; manic and subtle, delighted and not quite there and affectionate when he thought she wasn't looking. She thought of his tears, and his clever hands, his consideration and his lithe, scarred body. And she wanted, more than she'd ever wanted anything.

Almost without any will on her part, Belle's feet began to move, taking her to his chamber. At the door, she paused, resting her hand on the cool brass handle. Shutting her eyes, she whispered again, "do the brave thing and bravery will follow."

Inside, Rumplestiltskin's bedroom was lighter than she'd thought it would be. Set in the corner, a tiny jar of fireflies lit the room with a soft glow. In his bed, Rumplestiltskin lay on his side, curled into a ball as though the bed he was in was smaller than the king sized four poster it actually was. He was frowning, and the covers were curled in his hand.

Biting her lip, Belle stepped she set down her own lantern and blew it out; the fireflies gave enough light. Heart pounding in her chest, Belle reached up to the laces over her chest, untying them one by one until the nightdress was slipping from her shoulders. Then she knelt carefully on the bed, reaching out and tenderly placing her hand on Rumplestiltskin's bare shoulder. Carefully, she pressed her thumb over his collarbone. With a soft sigh, he rolled over, the rough warmth of his skin slipping under her touch.

Belle shifted, squeezing his shoulder a little harder, and Rumplestiltskin frowned, blinking awake. After a second, he focused on her, kneeling above him, her thick chestnut ringlets tumbling around her face.

"Belle." She'd never heard anyone say her name like that before. Rumplestiltskin's voice was rough, and soft with sleep, but the word was fervent; halfway between pleading and unsure, desperate and afraid. Smiling down at him, she leant down, and pressed her lips to his.

The fire that kindled in her belly was not yet true love; not quite blossomed into what it could be. But it was something; something powerful that seared over her skin, and planted a deep ache inside her. After a second, Rumplestiltskin's rough lips began to move against hers. Belle smiled against him, responding eagerly. Another moment passed, and hesitantly, his hands came to rest just above her hips. His touch sent yet more heat coursing through her veins, and Belle remembered exactly what she'd come here to do. Pulling away, she gave him another quick kiss on the lips before sitting up.

Rumplestiltskin sat with her, frowning a little. "Belle?" He sounded uncertain, and his eyes and cheeks were dark with want. Belle kept her gaze locked on his as she shrugged out of her dress, baring herself to him. A soft gasp fell from his mouth as he looked at her, and he swallowed. Then he glanced away, looking at his covers as though ashamed.

Belle paused, a tiny part of her wondering if he was disgusted by her. Quickly, she shook the thought away. She needed to be brave, and doubting herself wasn't going to help. So, with a soft shiver against the cold air on her bare skin, Belle crawled towards him until she was kneeling in front of him. Rumplestiltskin continued to stare at his expensive silk covers. Gently, Belle reached out, placing her fingers under his chin and bringing his face to hers.

Letting her instincts guide her, she looped her arms around his neck, leaning forwards and pressing her forehead to his, looking deep into his dark, troubled eyes.

"What's the matter?" Her voice was barely a whisper.

"I…you…this is impossible." He sounded broken, defeated. She felt her heart go out to him, and gently kissed his lips again.

"Why?"

Rumplestiltskin shook his head, pulling away and swinging his legs out of his bed, so he was sitting on the edge with his back to her. "You couldn't want me." He whispered it to the deep shadows with a certainty that broke her heart.

Staying where she was, Belle stared at the curve of his back, hidden by the baggy shirt he wore, hiding the body beneath it. "What makes you think that? Don't I choose what I want?"

"That's exactly the point!" Rumplestiltskin's voice was raised suddenly, angry, and Belle almost flinched. He ran a rough hand through his messy curls, resting his head in his hands. "I trapped you…I'm a monster, a coward. You should hate me. No one could ever…want me." He gave a soft laugh that morphed into one of his manic giggles. "Well, not unless they want something in return."

Belle paused, suddenly unsure. Perhaps he was right; perhaps she should hate him. Even want him dead. Certainly not desire him…Frowning, she stared at him, hunched over his knees, head hidden in his palms. And she simply couldn't do it. She could never hate him, no matter what he did or what he said. Because he needed her. Getting up, she walked around the bed, running her hand over the smooth, polished wood of the bedstead; feet padding softly in the thick rug hiding the floorboards.

She stood before him, and he kept his head in his hands. Biting her lip, Belle knelt on the floor before him, reaching up and taking his hands in hers, gently pulling them away from his face. Expression half hidden by his hair and the shadows, Rumplestiltskin looked down at her. The faint silver of tear caught the light of the fireflies, and Belle brushed it away with her thumb, keeping one hand over both of his, and the other cupping his cheek.

"Rumplestiltskin, I want you. With every fibre of my being." She smiled at him. "I don't know when it happened, but it has." Tenderly, she brushed his hair from his face. "I want you for your smile, the real one you don't think I see. For your silly jokes and your wits. I want you for your kindness. I want you for your sorrow, and your humanity. I want you for your hands, for your beautiful fingers," as she spoke, she kissed them, gently, one by one, "I want you for your eyes and your secrets. I want you for your lips and the way you kiss me." She paused, brushing a thumb over them, feeling their warm, smooth surface beneath her skin. "I want you for your darkness, and the light that still burns there. I want you for everything you are and have ever been. The only question is…do you want me?'

He was silent. His eyes were dark and unreadable. Belle began to blush, feeling silly and vulnerable and very young. And then he gave a small, disbelieving smile, falling to his knees before her and taking her into his arms. "Of course. Of course, I want you. How could I not?"

Belle felt a knot that had twisted itself around her heart fall away, and grinning, she pulled back to press her lips to his, gently pushing him beneath her and straddling his hips; covered by loose cotton trousers. Eagerly, she ran her hands through his hair, feeling everything slip away but the feel of him beneath her. Mischievously, she nipped his bottom lip, rubbing herself over his hips, feeling him grow hard beneath her with a mixture of nerves and excitement. Rumplestiltskin smiled beneath her.

"My turn dearie."

With a strength she'd almost forgotten he possessed, he easily flipped them, gently lowering her bare back onto the soft carpet and hanging above her. He took a moment to simply look at her, laid bare before him in all her glory; supple curves and creamy skin, flushed with desire. Belle gave him a smile, eyes sparkling, and he grinned, leaning down to bite and suck at her collarbone, moving up her neck and along her jaw, licking and kissing his way to her earlobe, which he sucked gently. He very deliberately did not touch any other part of her, holding himself above her young body. Beneath him, she panted and moaned, arching up into him, and Rumplestiltskin chuckled, moving to kiss her lips, he rubbed his nose against hers in a tender gesture of affection. Then he began to move back down her body, pausing at her breasts.

With one hand, he began to massage the left, rubbing his thumb in little circles over the soft flesh, stroking and squeezing gently. Belle gasped, and gave a keening moan when he took her nipple between his teeth, licking and sucking gently before blowing on the damp skin and moving to the right.

Barely able to form a coherent thought beyond sheer pleasure as Rumplestiltskin administered to her virgin body, Belle found herself moaning his name and clutching at his shirt, her skin hot and shivering with desire.

He moved lower, pausing to lick at her belly button, covering her skin in kisses before pausing just above her sex. He glanced at her, frowning a little. "Are you sure, Belle?" He sounded so human, it almost surprised her. There was no snarling menace or giddy mania in his voice; just sincere concern, respect, and a little need. Belle smiled, still basking in the waves of pleasure washing through her body.

"On one condition." He frowned, and she could almost see him retreating into his shell; thinking of deals and prices and lies. Quickly shaking her head, Belle sat up, her muscles feeling as if they'd turned to butter: soft and warm and loose. Rumplestiltskin sat back on his haunches, and she propped herself up on her arms. "I'd like to see you, first."

Rumplestiltskin frowned, tilting his head at her. "See…me?"

Biting her lip, Belle felt her cheeks flush as she moved forwards and slipped it under his shirt, running it over the hard lines and rough texture of his chest, the planes of muscle and ridges of scars. Meeting his eyes, she nodded. "All of you."

He still seemed unsure, but he didn't decline. Taking this as all the invitation she was going to get, Belle kissed him deeply before pushing up the fabric of his shirt, pulling it over his head and down his arms. She smiled at him, kissing the corner of his mouth before whispering in his ear. "My turn."

Less experienced than he appeared to be, Belle began with simple kisses, along his jaw and down his throat. Curiously, she licked the hollow at the base of his throat, and, smiling at Rumplestiltskin's soft moan of pleasure, blew on the damp skin as he had done for her. Nuzzling his neck, she kissed it a little more, nibbling the skin gently between her teeth, and shutting her eyes as she took in the smell of him, the taste of him…

Gradually, she moved down, pressing careful kisses to his scars. There were some which had not been self-inflicted, one, enormous and jagged which looked almost like a claw mark. It had not been inflicted by Malificent; Belle remembered those, and she made a note to ask Rumplestiltskin about it at another time. As she moved lower, she grew more confident; giving long, lascivious licks to the edges of muscle curving down to his groin. Rumplestiltskin was breathing heavily now, and Belle could see the proof of his need for her through the thin cotton of the trousers he still wore. Pulling him to his feet, she slipped her hand under the fabric, gently stroking him while she pushed down the clothing with her free hand. He was hot and hard beneath her touch, and Belle paused before going further to cup her hand around the back of his neck, leaning upwards to press her lips to his again while she continued to touch him.

Scooping up her thighs with one arm and wrapping the other around her back, Rumplestiltskin made a sound between a moan and a growl, carrying her to his bed and laying her on the sheets. Belle's hand slipped away from him and he held himself above her, staring deep and desperately into her gaze one more time.

"You're sure? You're…" He paused, swallowed, looking over the expanse of beautiful, unblemished flesh beneath him. "You're mine?" He said it in barely a whisper.

Belle nodded, butterflies dancing in her stomach as she replied firmly. "Yours. Now and forever."

He gave a soft, disbelieving chuckle, and his face lit up in pure delight before he sealed her lips in a kiss.

The rest, as they say, is history.

**AN: Sorry this is late; got a real case of writer's block - I knew how it would technically end but...I'm sorry if this ending isn't what you expected. If you'd like a quick oneshot on the whole dirty deed, let me know, and I might post a separate one for it called 'History'. As it is though, the act in its graphic entirety didn't quite fit in with the rest of the story, for me at least, and I'm sorry if I disappointed you there. **

**Thank you for sticking with this, and especially to those of you who reviewed or added the story to their faves' or alerts' lists, the support is enormously appreciated.**

**Keep calm and Rumbelle on!**

**LiS**


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